Fulcrum of Light (Catalyst Book 2) by C.J. Aaron (ebook reader that looks like a book .TXT) 📕

to find two additional shadows lurking at the outskirts of his mindsight. One was situated to the right and one to the left of their position, hidden among the rocks of the ridge. Were the four in front, the creatures who moved carefree in plain sight, merely a distraction for a surprise attack from the side?

The hours passed quickly for Ryl; his focus remaining on the movements of the Horde. Both groups appeared content in their present locations. Those to the front continued to mill about at random. The individuals on both sides remained still. Could this all be a coincidence? Could the Horde merely be gathering of their own volition?

Information about the true capabilities of the Horde was a mystery. Few outside of Taben and the courageous phrenic defenders of old had witnessed their prowess on the battlefield. Seemingly devoid of tactics they had relied on sheer numbers to overwhelm their foes. In reality, this strategy would have worked had it not been for the small, gifted force that stood in their path. They had not counted on, nor could they comprehend, the abilities of the phrenics or the assistance the Erlyn Woods provided.

Ryl refused to believe that the gathering of the shadows that stalked the night before his eyes was a mere coincidence.

He suffered through several spells of dizziness, thankful for the seated position where he could brace himself against the rock door to their cave. The few bouts of hallucinations, while troubling, passed rapidly. His concern grew as his fever swelled. Ryl alternated between intense chills and raging heat. His body shook with such ferocity that he bit down on his cloak to stop the noise of his teeth chattering together. Moments later, he burned with an uncontrollable fire and sweat soaked through his tattered clothes.

Ryl struggled onward through the night until his body felt it could take no more. The last dizzy spell that had passed only a moment earlier was one of the worst yet. He had collapsed to the ground as the world around him spun with the ferocity of a storm. The nausea would have emptied his stomach had there been anything left in it to expel. He staggered to rise to his knees as he attempted to regain his focus. His vision was still blurred and he struggled to regain control of his mind.

With one final effort, he focused with all his might. The frantic scene burst into view.

Blackened silhouettes of the Horde to the front had increased their activity. They darted back and forth across the open area at a frenzied pace. To either side the shadows were close, silently streaking toward Andr and Ryl’s position, running along the top of the ridge. They would be on them in moments.

“Andr. They’re coming,” Ryl whispered urgently as he poked the mercenary with the butt of his spear.

Andr shot to his feet. His sword slid from its sheath with a muffled ring.

“One from the left, and right,” Ryl relayed as he jumped to his feet.

The sudden motion spurred an intense bout of dizziness that ripped through his weakened body. He stumbled to the right, digging the point of his spear deep into the hard, rocky ground. As he pushed back off the shaft to steady himself, the wood snapped under his weight and his body pitched forward.

Ryl’s forehead connected with the wall.

All went black.

Chapter 10

Light streamed into the small cave as Ryl blinked his eyes open. His head was still spinning slowly though the discomfort of the rotation was dulled by the throbbing from his right temple. Wave after wave of pain spread over his head; radiating down his neck, intensifying with every beat of his racing heart.

Andr knelt over him blotting the moisture from his forehead with a damp cloth. Ryl attempted to push himself up to his elbows, but a sturdy hand on his chest held him down.

“Gave me quite a scare last night,” Andr said honestly. “How are you feeling?”

Ryl felt weak. On top of the slow, continuous spinning and the throbbing of his head, a mild itch had begun on his chest accompanied by a dull burning sensation. At least for the moment, the fever had passed.

“I'm alive. I'm thirsty,” Ryl stated dryly. “What happened last night? The last I remember was calling for you, then hitting the wall.”

“It's a good thing you called when you did,” Andr admitted.

He worked his arm under Ryl's, carefully hoisting him into a sitting position. He helped twist his body sideways, so his ailing companion could lean his back against the wall. Andr passed him a half full skin of water.

“Drink carefully now,” the mercenary cautioned.

Andr motioned with his head toward the entrance to their small cave.

“See for yourself,” he commented.

As Ryl’s eyes shifted to the opening. The smell was the first impression to register with his senses. The putrid odor of death and decay he'd come to associate with the Horde was potent, choking the air with its intensity. His thirst dried immediately; he stoppered the water skin laying it on the ground at his side.

Streaks of blackish blood splattered the ceiling and walls. The ground was stained with a massive pool that stretched out the door, smearing outward until it reached the remains of their stealthy foes.

From his position, Ryl could see the deep red, nearly black bodies of their attackers. Their disproportionately long legs ended in slender feet tipped with long claws. Each hand was equipped with the same razor sharp, deadly weaponry.

The head of the closest one lay frozen in a deadly snarl, its unnaturally wide mouth nearly splitting its head in half; lined with row after row of jagged, pointed teeth. Its left arm was missing. Its torso bisected by two, deep slashes; horizontal and diagonal. The head of the other was nowhere to be seen.

“I'm sorry I collapsed when I did,” Ryl said dejectedly, lowering his gaze to the ground as his head slumped forward. “Are you hurt?”

“Don't apologize,” Andr reassured. “Their